Chapter 3:

I wake up to the sound of Zoe's alarm blaring off at full blast. "Zoe.." I mumb;e in my sleep. "Turn it off." FIve minutes pass and then it goes off again. I get up, furiated, and then I chuck her white iHome to the floor. Zoe stirs in her bed across the room.

I try to go back to bed, but the alarm has rotted my brain. I slide out of my purple duvet clad bed and let my feet touch the fluffy white carpet. Sunlight streams from our balcony window.

I slide out of bed and look around. Zoe's still asleep, her head under her pillow. I giggle silently and then creep out of bed. Bella, her miniature Border collie, shakes as she gets up from Zoe's bed. I give her a pat on the head. Zoe and I share a penthouse near NYBA. It has a large living room and kitchen downstairs, and both are clean, sharp, and modern. Upstairs is the large bedroom we share (it's like a HUGE dorm room) two master bathrooms, and a large music room. The whole penthouse is huge, spacious, and classic.

My pomeranian Ivanna gets up and starts licking my Essie covered toes. "Stop." I giggle, but pick her up and give her a hug. She licks my face. "Ugh." I set her down and wipe my face off. After walking to the bathroom and getting ready, I emerge. Soon I am fully dressed in jeans, a plum and grey striped sweater, Tory Burch riding boots, and plum colored knee high socks that match my sweater. The heels of my boots click and clack as I descend down the stairs into the kitchen. I'm only wearing a little bit of makeup; foundation and conceler where neaded, some peach MAC eyeshadow, clear Chanel lipgloss, a Lemon Drop Eos, etc. My hair is down around my face, straight and natural.

Quickly, I make myself a breakfast of scrambled eggs, light turkey bacon, and Kashi Golean cereal. I throw all of the ingredients for a power smoothie into the Vita-Mix and then hit blend. After pouring myself a tall glass of the frosted fruit, I sit down at the breakfast table and stare out at the New York skyline. The tall skyscrapers peer down at me. I sip the smoothie and then spoon cereal into my mouth. Then, the scuffing sound of slippers down the black spiral staircase makes me turn around.

"Good morning," Zoe yawns. Her blonde hair is up in a messy bun at the top of her head. She's wearing an ivory Michael Stars tank top, Juicy shorts, and UGG slippers. She shuffles to the kitchen and throws some Kashi in a bowl and then slaps some bacon on a plate.

"Hey." I stab a piece of egg with a fork and then grin at her. She gives me a weak smile and then sits down across from me.

Zoe takes a sip of smoothie. "Ugh," She groans. "Apollo and Orpheus took forever last night." She pops her back and then rubs her temples. "And we have it again tonight."

I nibble on a piece of bacon. "Yeah, but at least you don't have to do Sophisticated Lady tomorrow. Valentino still hasn't measured me for the costume." I give an exasperated sigh and then finish the turkey bacon.

Zoe rolls her eyes. "Good luck with that." She snaps. Zoe's still pissed that I got to be the one who would do the showcase show tomorrow, instead of Lottie.

I laugh. I too have felt the wrath of the schedule, whenever zoe got solo roles a few months ago and i got nothing. Nada. Zoe finishes her smoothie and stands up. "I'll go get dressed and then we can head down to Julliard."

Twenty minutes later, we're standing at the foot of our penthouse apartment. The luxury building's glass doors swish open and close as people walk in and out. We smile to the doorman, and then walk down the sidewalk. Zoe's boots click across the frosty ground. She's warmly dressed like i am; in a blue sweater, skinny jeans, black Tory Burch riding boots, blue and gray argyle boot socks, a black peacoat (the same one I''m wearing), a blue beret tilted just a tad, and blue gloves. Her black Coach tote purse dangles from one arm, and she carries all of her music in the other. We chat while we speedwalk.

I avoid a couple walking hand in hand down the street. My plum slouch hat slides down on my face, hitting my Ray Bans. I push it up with my gloved fingers and then adjust my plum scarf. When you have to walk even two minutes in fall in New York, you have to dress warmly. We thankfully live two minutes away from NYCB, which is four minutes away from Julliard. It takes us about fifteen-twenty minutes to walk to Julliard. Zoe sips her Starbucks latte (we had to make a quick stop earlier before we left) and shivers. "I hate walking when it's cold." She turns the corner. I follow her and nod.

"Yeah." A little later, we reach Julliard. Zoe goes to find her vocal teacher on the 6th floor. I get in the elevator with some brass students and go to the 8th floor. As the elevator opens up, the smell of crisp paper, coffee, vanilla, and expensive perfume meets my nose. I open up room 815 and stick my head inside. Sunlight pours in through the large windows and gleams on the shiny hardwood floor. The black grand piano sits in the middle of the room. Yasmin Keplesky, one of my piano teachers who is from Turkey, sits at her desk. Her French tipped nails type at her Mac's keyboard.

"Mah-ssie!" She smiles, her red lipsticked mouth opening up to reveal her straight, white teeth. "Good morning, dah-ling." She trills, her accent slicing each word. Dr. Keplesky gets up. Her glossy raven hair is pulled up in a low chignon and her olive/ivory skin is slightly sun kissed. She's wearing an expensive pair of black Gucci pants, Louboutin pumps, and a silvery blue blouse. "How was your wee-ek? She picks up some music from her desk and walks over to me, her four inch heels tapping against teh floor.

I set my Coach tote purse, coat, gloves, hat, scarf, and Starbucks mug on a side table. "It was good." I set my music on the piano and sit down on the stool and start running a few pieces.

Yasmin shuffles the music in her hands and stands to the side while I quickly play Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata, Presto Agitato. When I'm done, she claps softly. "Good. Keep the tempo up, up, up. But do not rush, you know what I am saying, no?" She motions for me to scoot over and quickly runs the piece. I play the notes over and over with my hands patting on my jeans. She sets some more Chopin music down and claps her hands. "Begin."

I go through all of the pieces in two hours. We stop every ten minutes for etudes and arpeggio warm-ups, and every half hour I sip water. When I am done, I pick up all of the new and old pieces. Yasmin smiles. "Oui," She says French in her Turkish accent. "You are a prod-i-gee. Please, Miss. Hastings, join Julliard. You have talent-i. Please-a?" IT's the same thing she says every lesson, every week. Her lips purse in a pouty smile and her chocolate brown eyes gleam, pleading with me.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Keplesky. It's just that the ballet company needs me. I don't have the time for Julliard." I pull my Coach over my arm and wave to her goodbye. "See you later, Dr. Keplesky."

She waves back, her lipsticked mouth smiling, and her silver bangles jingling on her thin wrists. I open up the heavy studio door. The lock clicks and makes a kissing sound as I struggle opening it up. Another one of Yasmin's students stands there, staring at a Bach piano piece. Her white-blonde hair has golden lemony highlights and she has it up in a long, loose ponytail. We exchange smiles, and then she slips in the door. I hear Yasmin say, "Ahh, Lucy. How good to see you again. Did the Telemann go good?"

I walk down the hall and head into the elevator. Zoe is waiting patiently inside, nibbling on a LUNA bar. "What took you so long?" She rolls up the sleeves of her Cremeux sweater and pushes the 5th floor button.

"Dr. Keplesky made me run some extra pieces." I pull out a bottle of Evian from my silver tote and drink selfishly. Zoe smiles.

"I had a good lesson, did you?" She smiles, boasting a tad. "Madame Charpelle said I was "Ex-ce-ll-en-te"," She trills. We laugh. The elevator beeps and the doors open. We both hop out. Zoe finds her next proffessors studio and I head down to Soo Yun Kang's room. The South Korean teacher is my other piano professor. He very talented. I have him every week, while I only have Dr. Keplesky every other week. On the other weeks that I don't have Yasmin, I have Madame La Fluer. I throw open up the double doors to his studio. Dr. Wang is at the piano, performing a quick Handel warm up piece.

"Ahn-young-hah-say-oh." I say in Korean as I close the door behind me. Dr. Wang grins.

"Ah, Massie. HEllo." I slip off my boots at the door and then set my stuff down on a marble table. Dr. Wang follows some Korean customs in his studio, and one of them is removing your shoes. I know this because I am half-Korean. It is a large surprise to most people, but when they look at me they can start to see the Korean. My almond shaped eyes, slightly olive skin, etc. We chat for a while in both Korean and English. He makes me some Korean ginger tea (yum!) and then I practice piano for two hours. At the end of the lesson, he sips his second mug of tea and hands me some audition papers.

I stare at them confused. "I want you to pick several pieces and audition for Julliard's International Piano Comptetition. You are defiantly qualified and I want other countries to see your talent." He says, pointing out pieces of information. "There needs to be at least one Baroque, one Romantic, and one Modern piece. A minimum of five total. The competition is in the Spring. I hope you can do this, Massie. If you do, you could win." He slips his Calvin Klein glasses back on and then waves me off. "I will see you next week." He turns to his laptop and starts constructing an email to some students.

"Bye, Dr. Wang." I bow to him, a Korean tradition, and leave. With my shoes on, of course, and with my stuff. I find Zoe's vocal studio. She is finishing an Italian opera piece, something she dislikes but excells at. Of course, her voice excells at everything. Her teacher, Senora Diaza claps along to the perky beat.

"Ah five- ah sixa- ah sevun- ahn eight. And repeat. Ah one- ah two- ah..." HEr voice trails off. I sit down on a bench near the door and examine all the new music I have collected today. Vivaldi, CHopin, Beethoven, Bach, and Brahms stare up at me. Zoe gets out a few minutes later. sweat beads on her forehead.

She wipes it off with a Kleenex from Senora Diaza. "Oh wow." She tells me to get up and we leave. "I am so tired. And now we have to get lunch and then rehersal. Double yay."

"Well, yay for lunch." I watch as we leave Julliard and hop on the breezy streets. Taxi's and cars whoosh bye as we cross the streets. "I say we go eat at Bistro 3-2-1." I refer to a quaint, tasty, and semi expensive little bistro by NYCB.

Zoe nods. "Totally. I am dying for a nice plate of salmon and a dish of pistachio gelato." We giggle, join arms, and then skip to the resturant.